


Abeyant

by Altiria



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Marco/Ace if you squint, Mystery, Pirates swear a lot, Potentially heavy Angst haven't decided yet, Swearing, Whitebeard Pirates Mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-03-31 13:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13976526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altiria/pseuds/Altiria
Summary: Ace scrunched up his nose as the smooth ocean waves began to twist and twirl. The warm, comforting wood of the ship beneath him. The easy chatter of the people around him would silence in an instant. The water would churn and darken as a storm began to surround him. A clear sign he was going to wake up. Like every dream Ace ever had the voice would come. It would ask him questions he couldn't help but answer, and the moment he did? The dream would end. The same questions were voiced, the voice pestering for answers when Ace could not respond to them. For the memories of his dream did not follow him into the waking world. They'd twist away instantly, and Ace would be left clueless to why he couldn't ever sleep. Clueless until once again the shadow would invade his sleep.





	1. Chapter 1

“Are you happy here?” Pondered that oh so familiar voice. The one Ace knew so well yet could never place. "It is what you want?"

Ace scrunched up his nose as the smooth ocean waves began to twist and twirl. The warm, comforting wood of the ship beneath him. The easy chatter of the people around him would silence in an instant. The water would churn and darken as a storm began to surround him. A clear sign he was going to wake up. Like every dream Ace ever had the voice would come. It would ask him questions he couldn't help but answer, and the moment he did? The dream would end. The same questions were voiced, the voice pestering for answers when Ace could not respond to them. For the memories of his dream did not follow him into the waking world. They'd twist away instantly, and Ace would be left clueless to why he couldn't ever sleep. Clueless until once again the shadow would invade his sleep.

It would be only seconds before Ace woke up now that he was aware.

“Are you?” the voice asked again, and Ace scowled. Someone flickered in the corner of his sight. A tall, dark shape and a symbol he knew he should know.

"For being only a shadow, you're pretty nosy" he stated. He was not allowed to talk to the shadow. His words as ever the last string holding his dream together. His world would shatter his dream and wake him in an instant. At first, he'd asked questions regardless if he'd remember while awake or not. But eventually, he gave up. The voice never changed their words, so why bother?

His dream abruptly ended as he knew it would when he opened his mouth.

Scowling at his roof the Ace rubbed his face. He didn't know who or what to blame for his inability to sleep. All he knew was that three hours was asking too much and that made him irritable.

Ace cast his gaze toward his alarm clock, it was early as usual, near six AM. He had an hour till his alarm went off. But knowing him, he wasn't getting back to sleep.

With a groan and a curse, Ace kicked his legs off his bed and flicked off his alarm. He wouldn't want to leave it on accidentally and have it going off while he was out of the house. The last time he'd done that the old man who lived above him attempted to punch him. He'd dodged, but it was the point of the matter. Ace didn't want to be that asshole.

Truthfully Ace was beginning to get twitchy from the sheer lack of sleep he got, no matter how often or what drugs he took, Ace could not sleep through the night, he barely got a few hours in fact. No matter what time he went to bed – or even where he fell asleep – he'd wake earlier than intended. Without fail.

He'd tried sleeping earlier and later, tried during the day or in odd positions, none of it did a thing. He tried to sleep in the empty tub, the couch, the floor. Ace attempted to use lullabies, counting monkeys, warm milk and every natural remedy that ever existed. Hell, even his narcoleptic fits were interrupted within minutes.

Ace assumed it had something to do with the dreams he couldn't remember. A doctor had once told him that he was dreaming, he just didn't remember said dreams. Though perhaps the man had been lying, the quack had him do a sleep study which hadn't helped.

Pushing into his bathroom Ace observed his bloodshot eyes and scowl, not a great combination for customer service. He flushed his face with water and went about his daily rituals. He brushed his teeth, ran a hand through his messy locks of hair. Finally, he showered and ate - whatever was left in his fridge, which was nothing. Then an hour ahead of schedule he departed his apartment.

Perhaps his boss would let him start early because that was so likely. The man hated him, and Ace hated the man right on back.

He'd worked in his job for, well forever really, he couldn't remember when he'd started. All he knew was that he hated working at the shitty joint. He was doing it for the money and because he couldn't get a job anywhere else. So without verbal complaint, he worked his god awful hours, wore the tacky uniform, dealt with the idiots and scum of the world. Ace suffered through the low pay since otherwise he wouldn't eat. Then, once off work, he'd return home to his empty apartment. There he'd fail at sleeping, and everything would start up all over again.

Frankly, his life sucked but what else could he do. Ace could barely afford his apartment. He didn't have any friends or family to fall back on. Most of the world probably wanted him dead. He was stuck, trapped with no way out.

At least he wasn't homeless and jobless, yet.

Ace arrived at his job with forty-five minutes to spare and rapped on the front door hopeful someone would let him. His boss was puttering around preparing the building for the opening. The man glanced Ace's way and promptly turned around a smirk on his face. The man didn't acknowledge Ace standing in the cold attempting to get in. So Ace was left there to stand in the winter air for forty-five minutes. It seemed the doors wouldn't be opening until the exact minute Ace's shift was supposed to start. That was just fan-fucking-tastic.

Hunkering down on the sidewalk Ace sighed and stared at the sky. He didn't have a book or even a cellphone to mess with, all he had was his thoughts and the cold until the doors opened.

He watched cars drive passed, watched the people rushing to and fro. They wore their business suits and held their briefcases, they spoke on the phone and ignored Ace just as his boss did. Only one offered him a passing glance; a kid who looked and was pushed on by his father a second later.

Finally, finally, his boss decided to open the door, exactly one minute before his shift started. Ace was fully aware if he was late even single second the man would dock his pay. So the second the door was unlocked he was flying into action. Knew he'd be yelled at if he was late that minute. He darted into the door and slammed his jacket onto its hook. He ripped his visor on and clocked in with three seconds to spare.

"Roger" his boss grumbled, his hawk-like stare directed at the clock. He looked pissed that Ace had managed to clock in, in uniform, on time. Ace resisted the urge to flinch at the use of his last name. The bastard knew how much Ace hated carrying the name of his father.

Why though? Why didn't Ace like- he didn't remember why.

“Sir” he responded evenly, his heart thundering from the mad rush.

“Start preparing the fryers and ice cream makers.”

“Yes sir” he turned around on a heel and marched toward the back.

Twenty minutes later his female co-worker with the obnoxious flirtatious attitude arrived. She glided forward and clocked in without a second glance from their boss. Ah that isn't entirely accurate, he looked at her, he just didn't yell at her as he would have Ace.

Another forty minutes and their second co-worker – who'd been scheduled for the same time as Ace – stomped in their front door. By then they – and by they he meant only him – were in a mad rush for breakfast. Of course Ace never said a word to them, he still needed the idiotic job.

“Someone messed up the bathroom again” whined a high pitched airy voice. Buried in work Ace winced, he had a dozen meals to make and a dozen customers already yelling at him. Yet he knew it, with their second co-worker twiddling his thumbs and the bitch complaining then for sure-

“Roger!”

“Sir” he yelled back. Okay, they were going to make him clean the bathroom. Before him lay a line nearly out the door, he preparing six orders at the same time. Now he had six seconds, six seconds to make six meals. The hash-browns had four minutes till they were ready, the muffins had ten seconds. He needed to get a juice and three coffees. Two seconds, god he wished he had some form of heating ability to make the fryer cook faster.

“Clean the bathroom.”

“Yes sir, just give me-”

"Now!" Ace bit his lip to keep from cursing. The bitch wasn't doing anything – no she was texting. While the other one, the supreme idiot was flirting with a customer the unfortunate woman was drastically leaning away from him.

Ace slammed the muffins off the stove dumped them into their box, then passed over four of the six orders.

“Just a minute for your hash-browns ma'am” he stated to a woman with dark black hair and clothing that made her- him? Looking like a geisha and peering at Ace as if staring into his soul. Thankfully she gave him a look of pity instead of contempt. Her gaze slid to the side to his co-workers then him.

“Take your time hun” Ace might have commented that she- he? looked so familiar. But he was so busy; he didn't have a spare second to do what his co-workers managed on an hourly basis.

“Thank you, ma'am?” He rushed away from the counter snatching up a mop and bucket in a mad long rush. Naturally, those in lines freaked as he was the only one actually taking orders, they'd have to deal.

As he passed the woman on the other side of the counter he heard her look to her companion. A man turned away from with the strangest blue tinted skin tone. Was that a tattoo?

"I feel sorry for him; he looks so miserable here. It's a shame he's the only one working. I wish I could do something to cheer him up. He's got such a great smile when he's happy. To help since he-"

Ace opened the bathroom door meeting with something from a horror scene. It looked like someone had run around with their pants down and touched everything they possibly could.

_“Are you happy?”_

He didn't know where the mental question came from. He answered it anyway.

“No, I'm not.”

 

* * *

 

  
A narcoleptic event and nearly dropping unconscious into a deep-fryer would have been quite a way to die, Ace decided. It was by some miracle that a customer had noticed Ace fall and snatched his forearm at the last second. The man with a colossal pompadour had vaulted over the counter to do so, which had royally pissed off Ace's boss.

Despite the yelling Ace had been enormously thankful and wanted to pay the guy back. The man however vanished as soon as Ace had fully woken. He'd only gotten a flash of red from the sight, so either his savior was red-headed or had red clothing. Either way Ace would never be able to thank the man.

Because of the event, he was sent home right after, not because his co-workers or boss cared. They sent him home because of a dozen witnesses to his swan dive; they had been worried and ready to call an ambulance. So an hour early, an hour he needed to work, Ace was sent home.

Pulling himself into his apartment that was despairingly empty Ace plopped onto the couch. With his limited internet and cable, Ace had maybe eight channels. He used one of them now and flicked on the TV. His options were fuzz, infomercial, infomercial, news channel, news channel, news channel; you get the idea.

Picking one of the news channel not talking about a swimming cat getting exercise or politics Ace relaxed.

“War with the ------ have the marines working over the clock, the marines themselves are ---------, we have news that the ------- have been called in to assist with the battle-” Ace rubbed his temples, he was paying attention, yet some of that had fuzzed out. Was his hearing going out now too? That would just be his luck.

“We're here with -----” he jerked up toward the TV, the news report on-going. The report switched to an interviewer. The man had bleached blonde hair with the strangest cut.

“----- here, I've just finished talking with some of the marines. They claim they have everything under control. The claim that the son of ----- will be -------- on schedule. They also claim civilians should have no fears about the incoming battle” the man looked into the camera with piercing intensity.

Ace frowned as the man's mouth moved yet no sound came out. Then as if he knew he wasn't making noise the man scowled. His bright blue eyes burned looking directly into the camera and Ace could swear the blonde was looking right at him.

Then suddenly the blonde vanished as the news channel fuzzed out.

Ace shook himself feeling slightly fuzzy “That was different” he muttered. He reached forward and plucked the remote off the table and changed the channel. It seemed to him that news channel wasn't returning anytime soon with the way it was fuzzing out.

His new selection was an infomercial where an obsessively large man was showing off diamonds. It was absurd the number of diamonds the guy was wearing. It looked almost like his skin was made of the rare stone.

“This one we have from ------, terribly rare for this price. Honestly, we're just giving it away” the large man frowned suddenly. His previous smile broke as he glared directly into the camera.

“Ace, reme-” the TV show cut off right there.

“Okay? What is going on today, this lack of sleeping is really beginning to affect me,” Ace shut the TV down this time. That had to have been a coincidence; the diamond set must have the same name as him or something. No way the guy was talking to him directly, that would have been impossible.

“Going to sleep... and I'm talking to myself, no big deal, just going insane” Ace kicked off his shoes and twisted his body so he could sleep on the couch. Feeling too lazy to walk to his bedroom he just planned to pass out on the sofa – it wasn't like he hadn't done it before.

“Quick nap, then dinner... I have no food. Okay, dine and dash then” He closed his eyes and thanked his sleep-deprived body which conked out in seconds.

 

* * *

 

  
“Look at me,” said the voice and Ace refused. He needed some damn sleep; a pleasant dream would do him some real good. Right now he'd qualify the grand ship and the blue skies as a good dream. He wasn't about to let that stupid voice wake him up.

If Ace even tried to respond to the voice he'd wake up; if he dared to look, he'd wake up. He knew he'd wake up because he'd once been intent on discovering what the shadow looked like. Now he just wanted to keep sleeping.

“Look at me” the voice begged and pleaded in this tone that broke Ace's heart. It felt wrong; the owner shouldn't sound like that – not that he knew who the owner was.

“Ace, please, we're trying yoi. But... but nothing is working, we don't know how to help you. Please look at me, tell me how to help you” that voice, he knew- he knows who that-

The ship shifted, and Ace latched on with all his might. He clawed at the scenery determined to last a few more seconds. It was no longer about his continued sleep, it was about the words, about the voice and the verbal tick attached it.

“This is a dream Ace, it's a dream,” of course it was a dream, Ace glared at the blue skies threatening to come undone. Pieces fell away transforming the atmosphere into a puzzle with gaping holes.

“Ace please. Look at me, talk to me!”

“But I don't even remember you when I wake up!” he snapped twisting his body toward the voice's owner. Even as he turned his dream faded, the ship he stood on was vanishing into the darkness.

“You... aren't waking up. It's... all- dream... ”

The world shattered as he looked upon the being behind him. But all Ace saw was a shadow. All he ever saw, was a shadow.


	2. Chapter 2

Ace was reasonably sure people were not supposed to be as calm as he was. It didn't seem like his personality to just take the crap he was receiving. His calm responses to everything really should have been his first clue something was seriously wrong. Yet here he was currently putting it up to the fact that he wasn't sleeping, at all. His mind just was not active enough to properly be a human being. He barely had the energy to get his body moving. After all, he was running on simple ideas right then. Mainly Ace wanted to live, to live meant he had to have the vital necessities of life. Food, water, shelter, to get those he needed money, to get the money he needed his job. So with no sleep to his name Ace ran by those basic ideas, just in slightly more detail.

He used what remained of his energy to ensure he kept his job and kept his life. He showered because customers expected him to be clean. He ate so he didn't die - or pass out in the fryer due to weakness, narcolepsy type events notwithstanding. He left his house because the job wasn't in the house. He went shopping for food; he spoke with a smile because costumers expected excellent customer service.

Sometimes he felt like he might be a robot. He could practically see the energy bar floating above his head as each task in his day to ensure his survival took a little more of his energy. With the small amount of energy he got from an hour-long sleep Ace didn't have the brain function for emotions. A shrink - if he could afford one - might have called him clinically depressed, or emotionally numb. There was something wrong about that, but again Ace didn't have the energy to care that something was wrong.

In fact Ace didn't know it, but if nothing changed he'd likely waste his entire life like this. Running one day into another and not even realizing years had passed and he was just barely surviving.

Did it count as living if you were breathing? Or was living that just surviving?

He didn't have the energy for those kinds of thoughts. At least not while he was awake.

Things weren't the same in his dreams.

The night Ace found himself surrounded by trees, pine trees, maple trees, coconut trees, every tree that ever existed - and a great many that didn't - circled him. Each one had fruit hanging off them, even the ones that should not grow. The fruit were anything but ordinary; they were covered in swirls and strange colors, polka-dots, weird shapes, zebra stripes all the same odd swirling pattern.

Ace wandered forward peering up at the odd fruit. He could see on that shaped like a heart and another right beside it that was bright purple which had him smiling fondly. They looked oddly appetizing, but he knew none of these were for him. He was drawn deeper into the forest, the fruit growing stranger and darker with each step. Deep down he knew he had to find his own fruit in the woods. Ace didn't know what would happen when he finally did, only that it would be important.

The forest grew darker with every step further. Ace felt his paranoia rise with it, something about that darkness wasn't right. It made his skin crawl, Ace's whole body shivered as the temperature plummeted. He didn't like the cold or the dark; never had he was pretty sure. He couldn't remember where the dislike had come from. All he knew was he'd much rather be in the sun or sitting by a warm fire.

He stopped walking when a tree appeared in his line of sight. The roots had left the ground creating a trap of tripping vines. The bark was inky black and growing in such a way that Ace could swear it was dripping. The leaves looked wet, and he had the distinct feeling it wasn't water they were soaked with.

Hanging on the lowest branch was the brightest orange of fruits. Like made of pure flame, it hung before him like a light in the darkness. It was his fruit, he was sure of it.

He needed to have it.

His mind had other ideas because this whole thing screamed trap. His instincts were rolling over him demanding he turn back, turn away. Still- it was his fruit; he wasn't a coward, he could probably handle this. How bad could a bit of darkness be?

Ace lifted his foot to step forward. It never landed, not as something grabbed him and yanked him backward.

"Don't" warned a voice.

"What the fuck?!" he demanded turning furiously toward the shadow for stopping him.

He woke up drenched in sweat. Ace swore violently and lifted himself off the bed. He sheets pulled at his skin slick and cold. Hissing with disgust, he stepped out of bed dropping his feet to the icy floor. Why was his room so damn cold? It was late spring; the weather report said it would be a warm night! He glanced at the older clock he owned, bought at a garage sale he'd happened on. It was close to one AM. He'd slept for half an hour, fantastic.

Running a hand through his hair Ace left the bed and glanced at the mark he'd left behind. Grimacing Ace started to peel the sheet off the bed; he didn't have a replacement or a washer. He'd have to get creative. He needed a shower for the sweat anyway; he'd just wash the sheet with him. Efficient and straightforward he decided.

He took, depressingly, a cold shower since he was slightly tight this month. Then hunt up the sheet in the bathroom and marched out to the couch with his pillow and blanket. Ace dropped sideways on the couch and closed his eyes. Maybe he could get a full hour because he had a hope in hell to manage that. He closed his eyes and started to breathe slowly. He'd learned even laying down and relaxing helped a little. He might not be able to sleep, but it was better than returning to activity sometimes.

So he lay there in the darkness breathing. He listened to the sounds of the night, the occasional car driving past his apartment or the trains in the distance.

Ace found himself on an empty ship, the same he'd been dreaming of for ages. Soft brown woods, bright white sails and a symbol he could never quite make out on the flag far above him. He always liked this dream; the ship was his favorite one even if nothing ever happened. He could sit ages on the desk and just stare out at the water while basking in the sunlight above him.

"You can't remember me" mused a voice behind him.

Ace jerked, the shadow was here again, of that son of a bitch stopped him from getting his fruit! He would be hearing it now. He opened his mouth to tell the damned thing off. Only to feel the strangest sensation cover his mouth from behind. It felt like someone had thickened air like he could physically touch gas. It wasn't physical but was still able to prevent him from speaking. He'd call it a seven on the oddness scale easy.

"Don't" warned the shadow again. Ace twitched, this bastard was telling him what to do, well they'll just see about that, won't they. He twisted unable to speak Ace knew he could still see and he could pull off the best glare. But the air like sensation pressed to the side of his face as well. It was physically managing it - somehow? - and preventing him from speaking or looking at it.

"Don't" the shadow repeated sounding amused this time rather than concerned "don't speak and don't look, I know you hate being ordered around but for once in your life listen to me yoi."

Ace shot a cross expression toward the water since he couldn't point it at the shadow. Who did this thing think it was? Firstly Ace had no idea who it was, and while he admitted to not appropriately responding to it in his dreams, he'd heard it. Where did this shadow get off telling him Ace never listened to it? What bull.

"You don't remember me do you?"

Why the hell was it asking questions it knew Ace couldn't answer?!

"No, I imagine not, that's… fine" didn't sound like it to him, the shadow seemed pretty depressed about that. Ace would have asked it to introduce itself, but there was that whole

'Don't look, don't speak' order.

Would licking the shadows… hand? Get it to release him? Might be worth a try.

"That won't work Ace" definitely amused now. Ace could practically hear the smirk "I'm not letting you talk, you need some sleep."

Well, that was true.

"Maybe you can start functioning like a human being if you did yoi."

Offensive, sure he'd been thinking that same thing, but still! Ace decided to do it anyway purely to be annoying. He opened his mouth and licked the shadowy substance over his mouth. The shadow laughed at him. Ace himself recoiled, that tasted so so strange. He felt like he'd just smoked something and ate it at the same time. That could not be good for his lungs he just knew it.

"I thought you liked your beauty sleep." The shadow mused in his ear. "and here I thought I was being helpful keeping you from waking up."

He wasn't going to respond to that, not even if he'd been allowed to speak in the first place.

The grip on his body shifted as the shadow very slowly released the hold on Ace's head. He was immediately tempted to look at the darn thing again out of spite. But the more intelligent part of his mind told him to stop pushing it. Ace decided not to attempt to look.

"Thank you" the shadow stated, Ace felt like it was smiling not that he'd be able to tell considering it was, in fact, a shadow. At the same time, his choice not to look had rewarded Ace with the removal of the 'hand' over his mouth. Wickedly he wondered what his reward for not speaking would be.

"We're here for you Ace, even if you don't remember us," the shadow told him "try and remember that, you aren't alone."

Ace went to argue that, shadows didn't count as support, but before he could something tapped the back of his head. The shadow Ace realized was resting its head against Ace's. He stilled, it was almost like he was acting as support for it. It had leaned its whole body against Ace's and had he been less steady Ace might have tipped forward and sent them both into the ocean below. It was a bizarre feeling being someone else's physical support. He'd never been that person he thought; no one relied on him, no one expected anything from him. But here was the shadow trusting him to hold it up. It was sort of, nice

"I want to tell you everything, my name, why I know you, why this is happening. But I can't" Ace glanced backward slightly, he didn't move his head so he couldn't see anything but it felt like Ace was physically committing himself to listening if he did. He scrunched his nose slightly wondering what 'everything' actually was. Perhaps why this shadow was visiting him? He'd been under the impression the thing was a figment of his strained mind. Maybe it was a demon or something, here to push him into accepting his death.

"Physically I mean, if I try too hard you'll wake up and forget it. Hasn't been the first time."

Wait, what? What did that mean?

"So I'll just be selfish for a moment while you sleep yoi. Just for a moment" Ace honestly wanted just to ask what?! He was so confused, wasn't his own dreams supposed to make more sense than this? Oh right, dreams, so no.

The shadow shifted, and Ace felt it's 'arms' wrap around his middle. He shoved the oddness scale up another point when he realized he was being hugged by a shadow dream demon potentially after his soul. Carefully Ace moved his arms and laid them on top of the airy arms of the dream demons. His sank slightly into the demons since they weren't 'physical' in that sense. Still, the shadow seemed to appreciate it by the way they sagged on his back. Ace let it hug him for the time being; he could admit he enjoyed it himself.

* * *

Ace had gotten a surprisingly large amount of sleep on the couch that night. But four hours still wasn't enough to do more than openly stare at the man before him. With a furrowed brow, narrowed eyes and down pointed lips Ace looked like the definition of 'what-the-fuck?' That morning the shop had been visited by what Ace was mentally called 'actual shadow demon from hell come to eat his soul.' Who in reality was a representative of the company come to ruin his life?

"Would you please say that again?" he said please, that had to be some sort of miracle because Ace was pretty damn close to setting the joint on fire and watch where the chip fell. Hopefully, this idiot wouldn't notice that he was a step away from mentally snapping in two.

"The company has received complaints," the man said. That was not surprising at all. To be honest, Ace expected this sooner; the complaints were not what he didn't understand.

"Yeah" he nodded showing his understanding. He had to because of how slow this man was speaking. Newsflash, self-diagnosed depression didn't make him stupid.

"We've checked these complaints against the reports of your co-workers and superior" Ace made a great effort not to allow his lips to curl in disgust. Neutral face, neutral. Jeez actually getting sleep had made him crabbier than usual. Was that because his brain was functioning today? He wished that had happened on a different one. He'd been far better off not wasting his emotions on this bastard.

"We've discovered you are the culprit of these complains" the man waved a clipboard at Ace who was trying quite hard to understand. This next bit was where Ace was losing the man because it was so illogical. "You are notoriously late for work, forcing your co-workers to serve customers alone, not wearing a hair net while cooking, not washing your hands after cleaning the bathrooms."

That was proper English right? Not gibberish? Aces gaze slid from the man before him to behind him were his female co-worker was texting blatantly instead of helping the customer in line. Then to his male co-worker was chattering with a customer, who was, in reality, his 'buddy' and was ignoring the rest of the enormous line. The line Ace had been pulled off of for this conversation.

Ace sucked on his lips pressing them together tight which puffed out his cheek slightly.

"I'd have fired you on the spot" the man continued not paying mind to the odd expressions Ace was pulling off. "However your co-workers will be short on help until we can find a replacement. So instead you are on probation, continue acting in such a manner, and you'll find yourself without a job and blacklisted from the fast food industry."

Okay, that made sense if Ace was doing the things this idiot was thinking he was doing. But he wasn't, idiot one and idiot two were. Right in front of the guys face even!

Maybe he was blind? It would explain him not responding to Ace's expressions. But that didn't tell Ace why the 'complaints' pointed at him; sure his boss was sure to lie and say it was Ace. That guy was a dick. But Ace had been under the impression the customers wouldn't screw him over like that. Unless he was wearing the incorrect name tag?

Or maybe this was a hoax? A TV show? Was he on a hidden camera, he could get some big money for his reaction. Perhaps a whole bunch of job opportunities when he kept his cool. It was a comforting thought, much better than thinking someone could physically be this stupid.

"Is that understood?"

Oh, he was still there.

"Yes, sir."

At least he'd look like a saint on TV even if he was murdering the man in a hundred different ways mentally. Death by fire would be a good one. Ace would turn into a huge man made of flames and punch this idiot straight through the stomach.

"You better. Get to work."

"Yes, sir."

Ace slid to the side mentally praising his restraint. He was going to be a saint in no time with what he put up with to ensure he got a meal. He slipped away and practically ran to the counter to get back to work and get a handle on the line. Though he didn't run, they weren't allowed to run for real, and with the idiot still there Ace was not about to be written up for such a thing. In a rush, he grabbed several orders one at a time and rushed to complete them - alone since the other two weren't doing anything. At Ace expected the 'three' lines quickly became one as his was the only one moving.

He thought it a bit odd that none of the customers ever verbally lost it on idiot one or two though. In fact, they seemed to just accept that only Ace was ever doing any work. Distantly he double checked his name tag as he was handing an order off. Yes, it did have his name on it, so that wasn't the issue with the 'reviews' he'd received.

"HEY! WHO MADE THIS SHITTY BURGER"

Ace snapped to attention as a customer stormed into the building brandishing a half-eaten burger in his hands. And here he'd thought no customers ever came in yelling. Clearly, he'd taunted god and doomed his karma.

Maybe idiot one or two would get the boot-

"I said no pickles!" the customer roared focusing on Ace. He hadn't even served this guy so why was he- Ace flinched as the customer suddenly hurled the meal straight at him. It smacked him straight in the face with a thick splat. Ketchup ran into his shirt, lettuce hung off his ear, and the patty slid down his cheek to hit the floor, Ace didn't know where the buns went. He also didn't see a single pickle which had been the issue in the first place.

The customer stormed off without another word. While in the corner of the shop the corporate idiot pulled out his notebook and wrote something down all the while shaking his head with his eyes on Ace.

Ace's body gave a full violently twitch.

Today was just his day.


	3. Chapter 3

Ace's favorite dream to have was the one where he was surrounded by the ocean. Where everywhere he looked the sea could be found. He loved the slow rocking of the ship under his feet and the sound of the waves sloshing against the wood. Though Ace was partially unaware of how he was coming up with such vivid dreams, strictly speaking, he didn't remember ever seeing the ocean in real life. Yet everything in his dream seemed so very real. From the chipped wood to the sounds of the waves or even the snapping of the sail in the wind.

Even the flapping wings of a- wait there were no birds in his dream. Birds didn't fly out this far unless they were doing so to die. So why did he hear wings?

Ace made to turn and felt something tap his cheek preventing the movement. He paused and deflated, not a bird then, a shadow. Rolling his eyes skyward Ace fixed his gaze forward even as his lips quirked amused by the shadows attempts to ensure he remained asleep for as long as possible. He supposed this would be becoming a habit, Ace would dream, and the shadow would talk until Ace was ready to wake up.

"Do you like the ocean Ace?" the shadow asked in a relaxed tone "even if you've never seen it?"

Something brushed against Ace's ear "Would you choose it over the city around you yoi?"

Ace tilted his head thinking that one over, his instinct was to say yes immediately but something was holding him back. It wasn't the fact that if he answered he'd wake up, it was more like a pressure deep in his chest forcing him not to respond. Somehow he thought it wouldn't matter if he replied in the dream, perhaps because Ace would not be able to remember it when he woke up?

"Would you prefer a home on the waves?" the shadow continued intensely knowing Ace couldn't respond "with a family in the thousands? To the lonely life you live now?"

Well, yeah, of course he would, but why was the shadow pushing that thought. It wasn't like Ace had the option, he didn't even know where the ocean was in relation to his city. Not to mention where on earth would Ace find thousands of people to be his family. He didn't even have one in his real life.

"You'd have to ask for it Ace" the shadow pressed "will you?"

Ace opened his mouth to tell the shadow that life didn't work like that. Opened his mouth to tell the being behind him that he didn't have a friend to his name or the money for a ship. To say to him that even if Ace asked for it, he'd never be allowed such a thing.

A blaring noise woke him instead.

* * *

Just because he wasn't wholly focused did not mean he was an idiot. Ace knew enough to know to look both ways before crossing the street, distracted or not he had no desire to die by a car smashing into him at full speed.

Heading to work Ace was downright reeling that he wasn't late or even early for once. He'd gotten a miraculous full nights sleep, in bed even, and he woke to his actual alarm clock! The blaring noise had shocked him to the point where he'd been clueless to where it had come from. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard the noise! After waking up, in bed, to his alarm clock - he was pretty giddy about it - he'd managed to get a full meal with his appetite returning with a fervor. Outside of his monster of a boss and whatever nonsense his work cooked up, Ace would still call this day the best in ages. Honestly, he could feel it in his chest, a desire to grin ear to ear and just bask in it all.

Not feeling like denying himself a pause to enjoy the moment Ace stopped at the street light and just beamed. He probably looked a bit maniac considering there was little reason for it.

After his brief pause, he heard the ping of the walking man as the lights changed. Still buzzing with pleasure, he glanced at the walking man and stepped forward.

Now to note, the walking man had been up, the pinging had been going off, the lights were red, and the cars were stopped. These were facts Ace knew; he'd checked all that like a responsible pedestrian! When he stepped forward… well-

"Are you crazy!" a hand grabbed his arm and wrenched him backward. Ace flailed nearly tripping ass over end, his boots skidded on the concrete as he narrowly managed to right himself. Heart thudding Ace scowled someone had just purposely grabbed him for no reason at all. Apparently, someone was going to die today for daring to mess up Ace's decent day as far as he could ever remember.

Swinging around Ace rounded on the idiot before him. "The fuck is wrong with you?" he snapped out.

The idiot in question was a teen that still had a single hand gripping Ace's forearm. The kid had light brown hair and wore a gaudy green school uniform, and a long white scarf was wrapped twice around his neck. Ace personally though the scarf didn't make sense it was a warm day - another point to his good-day tally. Ace reasoned the brat had to be a fairly powerful teen considering his small stature and that he'd managed to nearly pull Ace off his feet. Ace wasn't exactly a little guy; he spent hours exercising with a lack of things to do - or people to associate with.

Ace gave the kid an incredulous look demanding with a single expression to know why he'd just been yanked off his feet. The brat, in turn, responded with a look that said Ace was the insane one between them. The kid acted like he'd not just yanked Ace off his feet for no reason at all.

"Me?" the kid recoiled giving Ace a distinct double take. Before poking Ace straight in the nose with his free hand "What about you! Are you attempting to die today?!"

Ace recoiled swatting at the hand "Die- what the hell are you talking about you brat!"

Scowling up a storm the kid pointed aggressively toward the street. Ace followed his line of sight and looked to the road; the bustling one where cars were speeding past at full speeds. Ace's brows pinched together in confusion. It hadn't been long enough for the light to change already. But he'd checked, Ace knew he had, he'd been allowed to walk. So why were all these cars ignoring the lights? He flicked his eyes to where the walking man should be and discovered a bright red hand.

What?

"You almost died" the brat finally let go of his arm "it's common sense man, don't walk into the street if the lights are green."

"It had been red…" he trailed off uncertain. It had been, hadn't it? He swore it had been.

"Maybe you should get your eyes checked" the kid retorted "you color blind or something?"

"No, I… they really were…" he trailed off uncertain. The lights changed again, and Ace couldn't help but triple check them.

"Whatever" the kid stepped back momentarily looking uncertain. "I don't suppose you want any help or anything do ya old man?"

Old man!? This little brat! Ace scowled at the kid. Just because the brat might have saved his life- Wait how long had he been standing there? Shit! He was going to be late.

"I don't need your help brat!" he yelled and raced around the street flying toward his work. Though, Ace glanced back "Thanks for the save though."

Ace sped off not bothering to glance back at the kid. He missed the upset expression the kid wore and how his eyes lingered on Ace. He also failed to notice the suspicious dark marks on the back of his bright green uniform or the mild limp the kid walked with. If he had, he might have been a bit more worried about the kid's general situation and might have asked some needed questions.

Ace managed to clock in on time narrowly. He was a bare breath away, seconds from being officially late. Definitely not something he wanted with the corporate bastard still visiting and recording everything Ace did or didn't do. His boss looked distinctly unimpressed Ace managed to just arrive in time, Ace smirked as he did. Mentally Ace flipped the man off for daring to hope Ace would fuck up. Then he plastered his fake smile on his face and went to work speeding through every order he received.

As always Ace took care not to stand too close to the fryers behind him. He had a habit of leaning forward as he worked. Ace had already a close call by nearly falling backward and unconscious into them. He both wanted to curse his boss to placing him in that position precisely.

He was around an hour into his shift when he was met with an exuberant voice and an even brighter personality.

"Hey, swan dive!"

Ace stared at the customer before him. That man was in of all things a chef outfit - minus the hat - which for one had Ace wondering why the guy was here, for their shitty food? The food was crap, Ace ought to know he cooked a great amount of it. He'd been endlessly confused to why they had such extreme lines. It couldn't be the food, or the service, Ace was not nearly cocky enough to say it was his smile especially since people had complained about him allegedly.

The beaming man before him leaned forward, a massive pompadour on top of his head took over Ace's vision. The red color was the only thing he could focus on. That and the shocking familiarity of the man who dared to call him 'swan dive.'

Remembering his service smile, which could be recognized by even a child as painfully fake, he stated: "Welcome, how can I help you?"

"Aww don't be like that," the man placed a hand on his chest pretending to be upset "it's just a nickname! Besides I think it's accurate don't you?" the man clapped his hands together and pretended he was a swimmer diving into a pool. He gave an exaggerated wink and gestured to the fryers behind Ace.

"How can I help you" Ace repeated dryly.

The man gave a pained gasp. Dramatically he fell across the counter and gave Ace a pitiful look "I can't believe you don't remember me-"

Ace felt his heartbeat quicken.  _"You don't remember me do you."_

"-how hurtful! And here I saved your life and everything."

"Saved my life? When did yo-, I don't remember you!" How was this the second time he'd had this conversation within several hours? First the brat from that morning and now this bright idiot? - And now he was acting like his co-workers, chatting with a customer instead of serving them. Fuck it; maybe he'd get praised if he did. Clearly, that was how this place worked.

The man laughed "couple days ago you nearly passed out beside the fryer remember?"

Oh, this must have been the man that caught him by launching over the counter "That was you?"

"Yup" he popped the 'p' and tapped his chest "man though, seriously, shouldn't you be getting more sleep?"

Ace scoffed "I wish" he mumbled under his breath. "I have narcolepsy," he said louder

"Ah, that makes way more sense. Well, be careful!" the man glanced past him to the back room "though you'd figure your boss would be good enough not to put you right in front of those." The man pointed right behind where the fryers lay, then to the stove-tops to the right. Then he pointed to the sides where his co-workers were near the bread and fridges. "Not that you can't handle it, you got like pills for that kinda thing right?"

'If I could afford them' Ace thought.

"It's neglectful! I'd have just swapped you for the safety reasons alone. Seriously, man, you should be asking if you should really be here." shaking himself, he said "anyway I should get out of your hair if I keep you the line will never move" especially since during the whole conversation his co-workers hadn't managed to finish a single customer.

"But you know, if you want something better" the man extended a hand and flipped a business card at him "we can always use waiters, and you've got a great attitude, the guys would love ya. Give us a call 'kay?"

Accepting the card Ace glanced down to read it. If he'd been drinking Ace would have done a spit-take when he realized who was in front of him. The man was Thatch, head chef to the recently opened, popular and extremely expensive new restaurant in the city. He'd seen commercials for the joint and drooled mountains at the food descriptions. Ace had been dying to eat there or rather dine and dash because he couldn't afford the place.

This guy was offering Ace a job at that place?! What on earth was the guy smoking! Ace worked at a fast-food joint, in what world did that give him the qualifications to work at a such a restaurant?

Ace lifted his head to ask Thatch if the offer was legit, only to come face to face with the next customer in line. The man was seething demanding to be served. Looking away from the customer to the door Ace spotted Thatch slipping out of the door - without ordering a thing unsurprisingly. Thatch gave him a cheeky wave and vanished around the corner.

Scoffing Ace shoved the card into his pocket to toss out later. No way was that offer legitimate, who in the hell would ever hire him like that. He was not that lucky; it had to be a prank. That was the only possible thing Ace could see from such an offer. If he called he'd probably just be fucked with, no way was he going to fall for it.

* * *

Ace was chained to the floor, shackles wrapped around his legs, his arms and his neck. He was alone in the darkness with only the sound of his breathing and the chains moving with every shift of his body. It was too dark, too cold he felt like he'd been dropped into a bucket of ice and Ace couldn't get warm no matter what he did. He couldn't wrap his arms around himself because of the chains. He wasn't even wearing proper layers he had only a pair of shorts ripped, bloodied, and probably colored something other than black once upon a time.

A nightmare, of course, he'd have a nightmare. The universe was getting even for his decent day in forever. Scowling Ace tried to see through the darkness. He very obviously wanted out. He wanted to wake up right away.

Where, the hell, was his shadow?

Every time Ace had a good dream the shadow was there. But now, now trapped in a nightmare the being wasn't here.

Ace could wake up in an instant just by speaking to the shadow. He could escape with a single word, but it seemed his shadow wasn't with him during unexplainable nightmares. He ought to call for it, yell its name if he could, not that Ace knew it's name. Fuck, no he wasn't relying on that thing he'd get his own ass out of this.

Twisting his body Ace attempted to pinch himself which in all the stories succeeded in waking the sleeper up, or as a test to whether they were in a dream. Ace already knew he was in a dream so that point was moot. He grabbed his skin and twisted, he didn't feel any pain and remained dead asleep.

What the hell was this? He was notorious for not being able to remain asleep and now that he wanted to wake up he couldn't? That was some bullshit.

He was going to give that shadow so much shit for not being here. He'd have to talk fast since he'd start to wake up from the first word, but oh he'd be doing it.

"Ace?"

About damned time.

Ace turned, he couldn't help it. He looked right where the shadow should be, and he saw only blackness. His shadow and the darkness of his nightmare blended too smoothly, making it impossible to tell them apart.

"Impel down?" his shadow mused softly.

Ace furrowed his brow, he didn't understand part of that, what down? Did his shadow speak another language? No, he had to prioritize, he was getting out of this place. Ace opened his mouth, all he had to do was speak, and he would wake up. He was taking advantage of that now. He didn't manage to get a word out as the world exploded in blue. Flames of blue surrounded him, it licked his skin but didn't burn. Instead, it felt like feathers brushing him comfortingly and filled with warmth. Ace snapped his mouth closed.

"I'm sorry I was late yoi."

Ace mentally grumbled, he wanted to more angry still he couldn't help but appreciate the shadow had at least shown up at all. He certainly wouldn't want to be in this place for longer than necessary if he couldn't help it.

"This better?" the shadow asked. Ace realized with the blue flames illuminating the cell around him he could make out the shadows form. The edges were blurred, but it had a distinct male shape to match it's, or rather, his voice. He noticed the blue fire seemed to be coming from where the shadow's arms ought to be. The way the flames moved it looked almost like wings coming from the shadow's body.

His first thought was the tease the shadow and call him a blue turkey of some sort. Another part of him wanted to bask in those flames which he found extraordinarily beautiful. He did neither, not while he was still chained to the floor and in a cell. So instead of a tease what came out of his mouth was a simple and well meant: "Thanks."

'Thanks for coming' he thought because now he could-

Ace woke up to the flickering blue light of his TV screen.


	4. Chapter 4

Even if Ace believed the business card he'd received was only given as a joke, he still couldn't find it in himself to throw it out. The little white card with the odd purple symbol remained present on his table, and no matter how much Ace told himself it wasn't a real offer, the card remained. He passed by it as he prepared for work, passed it as he came home, and passed it as he ate dinner and got ready for bed. The card sat ever present taunting him.

Nearby the muted TV played a barely clear news report; Ace didn't pay much attention to the channel since his favorite reporter wasn't on it. Ace sat in front of the card with narrowed eyes. It was only him and the card facing off. He tapped the coffee table with his fingers one after another thudding in the silence of his apartment. Ace flicked his eyes from the number - that had burned into his brain due to how much he'd been staring at it - to his phone laying harmlessly beside the card. It was probably too good to be true, he'd probably call and they'd laugh at the poor sap who dared to think he could get a job like that. After all, he was the son of-

No, it was probably okay. Why go to that extent just to prank him? People weren't that cruel- alright, they were, but Thatch seemed kind enough. Not to mention the man prevented Ace from face-planting into the deep-fryers.

But he was still way under qualified for that sort of job; or so he told himself, it wasn't like Ace had been inside the place, maybe he would fit right in. Either way, he should call and give it a shot right, since he didn't know?

But what if-

"Argh!" Ace ranked his hands through his hair and gripped it tight; this was ridiculous, why was he acting so flaky about this. A simple phone call shouldn't be that hard; it was just a short conversation that could potentially set him up with a far superior job. The pay had to be better, and Ace was sure his co-workers in the restaurant would be leagues better than his current ones.

That was it, he was calling them.

Ace snatched up the phone and started to punch in the numbers only to pause. It was nearing midnight; the place would be closed.

"Dammit," Ace tossed the phone back to the table "tomorrow then, tomorrow I am calling."

In fact, Ace decided right then he would sleep on the couch, that way the phone was right in his vision when he woke up. It would ensure he didn't falter again in the light of day. He was calling tomorrow; he refused to do otherwise.

Closing his eyes, Ace drifted off and quickly found himself surrounded by the beach. Behind him was a collection of palm trees, while in front of him was pure white sand and ocean as far as he could see. Ace had the distinct aversion to the crystal clear water, beautiful and relaxing as it might be, he felt like if he stepped within, he'd quickly drown in its depths.

A shadow brushed against his arm, and a voice spoke out: "Don't turn around yoi."

Ace rolled his eyes skyward. He didn't need to be told that every time, jeez. Besides the previous time, he'd looked and he hadn't woken up, not until he'd spoken which meant the rules had changed. Feeling challenging Ace glanced over his shoulder and smirked at the shadow behind him. He couldn't see the beings face, but he could sense the exasperated amusement there. He shot a cheeky grin at it when nothing happened.

"Fine, but don't blame me if you wake up because you wanted to challenge me yoi."

What shadows can read mind nows?

"It's all over your face."

Well, apparently the shadow knew him better than the other people Ace associated with. Was that depressing? Perhaps a little. The person he was closest to was a figment of his imagination that appeared only in his dreams. At least consistent, showing up through dreams and nightmares. From the cage or 'impel down' as the shadow called it, or the forest with the strange fruits, to the ship and beach he'd found himself in currently. Ace supposed he ought to thank the shadow for his previous showings. A free escape button from nightmares happened to be something Ace was quite grateful for.

The shadow shifted and dropped to the sand under them leaning back on what Ace assumed were its arms. It moved like a human without distinct lines and made his eyes go a bit cross-eyed. Ace, after a brief pause, dropped beside it and dug his feet into the warm sand.

The shadow leaned to the side as Ace sat down and brushed its arm to Ace's. Softly it hummed "Guess you aren't going to wake up then,"

Ace felt slightly smug, after all, if the shadow had its way they wouldn't be able to do that.

"Don't be smug," the shadow swatted at him "you still can't say a word yoi."

True, but still progress was progress. Ace would count that at a distinctive win after all his dearest friend was only in his dreams and Ace couldn't even face it before this night without waking up. Now they could - in a manner of speaking - communicate. Ace felt positive about it; soon they might even be able to talk without Ace waking up.

The shadow turned to face Ace; communication was far more straightforward if the shadow was looking at his face. "You don't remember a thing," the shadow sighed. "How am I supposed to help you if you don't remember a thing."

Ace side eyed the shadow who leaned forward its hands wrapping around its ankles. Then the shadow chuckled, Ace realized it was still looking at him and could see his expression. "Don't look so guilty Ace it's not your fault."

Well, personally he disagreed, he and the shadow had a history and one that he didn't remember. Which Ace realized was a bit bizarre, how did he have a past with a shadow and what sort of history did they have? Was it a past life? A coma dream? Jeez that was just what he needed; to learn he was part of some dramatic scenario where he was the twin brother unconscious while his sibling slept with his wife. Ace would bet his shadow was his best friend trying to wake him up and so they could save the day. But the wife would be some evil bitch, and he'd instead get together with his friend- wait what?

"What are you thinking?" the shadow tapped his head, out of instinct Ace swatted at the hand in an odd sense of habit. Like he was often teased and was used to it… but he had no one who would do such a thing. The shadow relaxed beside him, like Ace's reaction was what he expected and was cheered to know even if he didn't remember that Ace was still Ace. His cheeks warmed realizing where exactly his thoughts had been going. Able to speak or not he wouldn't ever repeat what he'd just thought.

"I wonder, what would happen if I told you something. Perhaps…"

'Hah,' Ace thought he was practically daring the shadow to do so at this point. He might even remember it, not while awake of course, but during other dreams it could happen. After all, he remembered other things about the shadow, like his voice, the shape of his body when he'd used those blue flames and the odd verbal tick he possessed. Not to mention the fact that Ace had the overwhelming feeling that he should know who the shadow was. He still didn't though.

"I don't know how I feel introducing myself to you again though," the shadow continued, "they told me it's better you figure out on your own. But I miss it… you saying my name."

'Go right ahead' Ace wanted to say, he didn't think he'd figure it out on his own. Besides he'd seen enough drama on TV, a name might jump-start his memory. So rather than saying it, Ace tried to make the idea come across his face. He looked right at the shadow and all but dared him to do it. He screamed it with his eyes and not for the first time the shadow read it correctly across his face.

Perhaps they both held out hope that the information would help. That by learning the shadows name something would change. Truthfully it did, but not in the way either of them wanted.

"It's Marco."

Ace's heart jumped, his eyes flew open, and he stared out at the sky. Breath was suddenly so much harder to take in. He felt like he was drowning. Like someone had ripped apart his lungs like his heart was being pressed between two magnets at full power. He choked on that name, it was on his lips, on his tongue, in his heart.

The shadows around Marco dispersed revealing tanned skinned and a weak smile. Oh gods, Ace could see him. He carried that familiar bizarre hairstyle, like someone had cut off the top of a pineapple, dyed it yellow and stamped it to the top of Marco's head. His eyes were wide open; Ace knew they should be half-lidded and found the current expression highly distressing. A chain around his wrists stole what little breath Ace had; he knew what that chain was and what it did. Following the length of chain downward Ace stared at Marco's chest and what Ace could only describe was a stab wound right underneath the familiar mark that lay there.

Ace reached forward, reaching desperately because for a moment he remembered. He remembered, and it hurt. It burned at his lungs, and his mind starting cracking at the seams. Suddenly he knew why Marco was there and why the others had told him not to tell Ace. Because they had been right, they were right; he shouldn't know yet. It hurt- it hurt to-

He cried out hands snapping to his middle as he wheezed in pain.

"Ace!" Marco launched forward in distress clutching Ace's arms as he helpless gripped at his perfectly whole stomach. There was no reason for the pain, yet it was there, it was there, and it burned.

Marco grabbed Ace's hand and dragged him forward. As he moved, Ace felt like a thousand knives had stabbed into his limbs. They fit under his skin, nails and between his joins. He couldn't help it he screamed out in pain. Marco's hand dropped to the back of his neck, and he held Ace close. He was saying something, but Ace was having difficulty making it out through the pain.

"-sorry-… my fault- … -I shouldn't have-… I'm sorry, I'm so sor-"

"Marco" Ace choked out the name, and it came out like nails on glass ripping through his throat like fire. He tried to push through it trying to tell Marco that it was not his fault. Ace didn't know why the pain was happening or why it was happening now. But it wasn't Marco's fault; he'd never do something like that if he knew. He'd only ever tried to help Ace. It wasn't on him; this was on Ace for being such a-

But Ace had spoken.

Ace woke up to a news station completely cutting out and a pain he couldn't explain beating in his chest.

* * *

He had planned to call the number on his table in the morning, and he would have if he'd woken up on time. However, for the first time in ever, Ace woke up late and let it be known, sick as a dog. Sniffling like someone had just doused him in pollen, he got ready in record speed and was forced to abandon the card on the table till the afternoon.

On the upside Ace was not throwing up or even sneezing, on the down he felt like he'd taken a beating directly in the middle of his torso. He felt like someone had trampled across him for fun and then did it again because they thoroughly had enjoyed it. Not a great feeling.

While on top of that Ace discovered overnight he'd apparently been taken in by the mother ship and aliens had rewired his brain. Only his of course, because even if the world stopped making any sense at all, it seemed everyone else was on the same page, and just Ace had been left behind.

Personally aware of the much-needed income Ace had all but sprinted to his work straight through the storm that had rolled in. So he'd raced to work, in the pouring rain, while injured without an apparent cause, and sniffling like crazy. He'd arrived late - the first time in the history of his working at the place - before he'd changed into his clothes and clocked in even later since he'd been required to towel himself off with hand towels in the back.

He'd ducked his head avoiding his bosses eye prepared to be fired in an instant. After all, the man was out to get him, and now Ace had given him cause actually to let him go for a legitimate reason. Only the man went against all expectations, instead of firing Ace, the man… praised him?

"Well done so far Ace, we might keep you if you keep this up."

He hadn't responded. What could he even say to that? He'd arrived late, soaking wet and sniffling like he had an extreme cold at a food place. Yet he'd been praised.

Obviously aliens. It was the only explanation. Left was now right, green lights were now red, and bad was now good.

A part of Ace wanted to test the theory and for that day completely half-ass his job. Perhaps even take an extra step with it and copy his co-workers. But he couldn't help but think the whole place would go under if he stopped. To be honest, he didn't know what the customers were smoking as they continued to come to this joint. The service alone, outside him, had to put them off. It had to. But as always the line was out the door - and into the rain, he might add - it seemed Ace didn't understand people. The food wasn't even that good; their special was a cherry pie for goodness sake. Considering he made it and ate it himself because he had to, he knew it wasn't appetizing.

Shaking himself off Ace got to work. But if he was doing it at half the speed, well his boss wasn't complaining and would probably praise him.

"Are you alright? You look tired," said the first customer in line. Ace looked up and realized it was the one he mentally called geisha, the cross-dresser who had during his few visits had made a point to say something kind to him.

"Just an off day," he answered. No way was he going to say he was sick. Though he might rewash his hands, he didn't want to get the geisha ill too.

"If you're sure," the geisha answered hesitantly "I just thought it looked like something changed like you received a shock? Or information that surprised you?"

"No," he frowned "nothing like that, I just woke up feeling off,"

"Ah," the geisha narrowed his eyes on Ace "did you. Maybe a dream then."

"I don't dream,"

"Don't you?" the man asked challengingly.

What? What did that mean? Ace gave the guy a look that was ignored. The man merely nodded his way and walked away without another word, as if he hadn't just dumped cryptic nonsense into Ace's lap.

Ace stared at the man with an incredulous look. What was with these customers and getting into his business lately? Why couldn't people be normal around here? He sighed, at least the geisha didn't seem malicious or anything, not like the people he worked with.

Becoming more determined to call Thatch and the restaurant over the course of the day Ace all but stomped over to his phone when he arrived home. The whole day he'd been praised for mistakes, from being late and coming in soaking wet; to screwing up several orders and dropping a few packs of fries. Each one earned a nod from his boss and approving smiles from his co-workers. Ace decided he couldn't handle the contradictory working environment.

Flopping onto his couch Ace snatched up the phone and dialed the number; no more pussy-footing he thought, he was doing it. Practically jamming the buttons down, Ace pressed the phone to his ear and waited for someone to answer.

He was tired of his job, tired of being blamed and marked for things that were done correctly. Screw that place, and so forth, he was taking the chance. Prank or not he was going to find something better.

Hopefully.

_"This is the Moby Dick how can I help you?"_

He inhaled as his stomach did a flip. Internally he swore, this was legit it was actually- just talk!

"I'd like to speak to Thatch please,"

 _"Sure,_ oneeeeeee _second~."_

At least the number was real he supposed. He might be able to get this job.

_"Thatch speaking, what's up?"_

"Err, this is Ace-" he cringed slightly and forced the second name from his lips "-Roger, you mentioned an interview… err you spoke to me at the Maritime."

 _"Ah! You called! Sweet I told them you would! No way you'd stay there."_  Thatch sounded so excited that Ace couldn't help but find it endearing, it reminded him of- something. _"But you were wrong about something there swan-dive!"_  his stomach dropped, so it was a prank then, fuck he couldn't believe-  _"I wasn't offering an interview, I was offering you a job. You're already hired!"_

Ace sucked in a sharp breath. Already hired? But he hadn't done an interview, how could Thatch possibly know enough about him to hire him at that place.

_"Yup, we sort of spied on you a bit. Plus there is that other thing-"_

"Other thing? Wait what do you mean spied-"

_"-So, yeah you're hired we'll go over your contract right away. Say tomorrow afternoon? You don't have work right?"_

These stalkers!

"No, I don't have work." As Thatch apparently already knew.

_"Great! Six work for you?"_

"Sure…" aliens, he was going with aliens.

* * *

Ace's body curled in on itself. Oh god, it hurt, why was this happening it felt like he was burning on the inside. He couldn't feel the wood under his body or the wind on his skin from the dream he had so often liked. There was only the pain, a pain he didn't understand and couldn't remember why it was affecting him like this.

"Ace!" hands tapped his back, and he screamed. Fuck make it stop, make it STOP.

"Listen to me! You weren't ready-" why was this happening. "-Ace you have to forget what you remembered. It was too soon!"

He didn't know enough swear words to even manage to describe the pain he was feeling. He shouldn't have this pain, his body was fine, his middle was whole, and yet it felt like-

"Ace!"

He could hear the panic in Marco's voice, not something he'd often heard. The few times he had it had been reserved for the direst of situations.

"Forget it," Marco demanded, "right now, do it!"

'Forget?' Ace thought, 'never.' He refused to lose what he'd only just reclaimed, dreams or not he would cling to that knowledge like a true pirate.

"Ace," Marco grabbed his face "now!"

Ace forced his eyes open and shot a glare at Marco 'screw that,' his face said. It wasn't like he could forget something as important as that and wouldn't if he could.

"Ace please,"

"No," he snapped out before rushing out the rest of his sentence "absolutely not Marco. No, you need to tell me what's happening. Because I'm not just going to forget it-"

He woke up chest heaving, in a rush Ace swung to the side and threw up across the floor. Ace grimaced and forced himself up. He'd have to clean that up after his stomach calmed. Several minutes later he forced himself to wet a cloth and return to the couch and begin to mop it up without bothering with the light in his pain. In the darkness, Ace missed the small amount of blood that had come up with the rest and failed to realize things were far more dire than he believed.


	5. Chapter 5

Today was the day, the day of his interview - or in reality, it was more akin to meeting his employers since Thatch considered him ‘already hired.’ While technically speaking Ace still needed to quit his current job, it was doubtful he’d be able to manage or even want to work both at the same time. Ace knew he’d quit, which he’d do the minute he decided on the most spectacular way to do so; Ace figured he might announce it during a lunch rush; ‘politely’ give his two weeks notice didn’t feel awesome enough. No, his quitting had to be loud and fiery, he’d figure it out eventually.

That morning would officially be the first time entering the Moby Dick and as far as he could see the outside of the restaurant matched the commercials. It was designed to look like a massive ship with a white whale figurehead. On top of the building was a large working sail with a skeletal symbol done in the restaurant's logo, a purple skull with a long white mustache running across the face and the bones forming a cross behind it. Something about it gave him a distinct feeling of deja vu. Staring at the Jolly Roger, Ace found himself reaching his arm up and over his shoulder to brush a hand along the upper part of his back. Then he scowled brushing off the feeling; he had things to do.

Ace stepped forward pushing open the doors and entering the building. He didn’t have a moment to look around as exactly half a second later a pompadour filled his vision. Thatch bounced his way sliding to a stop in front of him to say: “Right on time Ace!”

Thatch stepped up to his side, and he made a broad sweep of his arm showing off the inside of the Moby Dick. Being the first time Ace was able to see the inside of the place which would hopefully be his workplace, Ace took a moment to give a real look. The restaurant was nothing like he’d expected.

Considering the commercials, Ace had assumed the Moby Dick would be fancy and professional, a black tie joint; it was not. Instead, the Moby Dick was boisterous and chaotic, friendly and loud; Ace immediately felt welcomed as he realized no one would give him a second look, even if he were to walk around shirtless. All over customers had put their tables together with relative strangers; they leaned over excitedly chatting to people and the workers. A table nearby was having a full-on poker game where a laughing waitress, who had joined in, was winning. A waiter slipped past dancing around the groups and handing off drinks joining in several private jokes as he stopped at his table. From a distance, Ace heard one of the customers make a joke about a pineapple and a diamond that had a whole group including a waiter breaking down laughing. While the smells alone coming from the kitchens and nearby tables had Ace’s mouth-watering, which only got worse as a table toasted to Thatch himself who was in fact ‘working.’

The restaurant itself was designed similar to that of the inside of a ship, with portholes for windows, wood furniture and ocean theme objects all over the walls. Many of which had meaning that Ace was not privy too, from the poster of a bright blue bird to a spiked flail that someone had drawn a face onto. Ace spotted a bunch of fake wanted posters along the walls, one of which was depicted in the likeness of who he swore was the local reporter he’d seen on TV a few times. Another poster had the face of a dog with a banana mustache.

“We’ll get yours up too,” Thatch saw where he was looking “once we get your picture that is.”

“Really?” Ace asked following Thatch “They’re for the workers then?”

“Huh?” Thatch glanced at him confusedly “No of course not, it’s for the crew.”

“Yo Thatchy!” the two jerked and glanced over as a waiter walked toward them carrying an empty tray “is this him? Roge-”

Thatch rushed forward and slammed his hand against the man's as Ace blinked. Had he been about to say- no that wasn’t possible, they couldn’t possibly know about his father. It had to have been a fluke.

The man closed his mouth, and Thatch slowly removed it hissing something at him, the man nodded apologetically. Then they both recovered smiling warmly toward a profoundly confused Ace.

“Ace, this is Carter.” ‘Carter’ was to Ace immediately forgettable, if Ace were to describe he’d merely say Carter was average. He was the type of man that would do fantastically as a background character in the middle of a play.

“Uh… hi?” he greeted awkwardly.

“He’s the former head of the second division” Thatch explained as if Ace knew precisely what he was talking about; he didn’t.

“Okay?” Ace gave the man a confused look, “and a division is… what?”

Both men stared at him like Ace was acting particularly obtuse. However when Ace didn’t blurt out the words ‘just kidding’ and the silence continued to reign Carter made a distressed sound.

“The second division of the crew?” Carter offered as Thatch grimaced.

“That’s… something to do with the job?” Ace was beginning to feel incredibly off; they didn’t expect him to know details about the job before he worked there right? He’d never actually eaten at the joint; he didn’t know how it worked yet.

“Oh shit,” Thatch managed.

“Thatch!” Carter hissed “he doesn’t know about-”

“Okay!” Thatch yelled suddenly cutting him off; he shot Carter an exaggerated ‘shut-up-now’ look that even Ace caught. “Ace how about you head to the back, through the doors right there, take the second right for my office okay? I’ll be right there, and we can go over the job.”

“Oh, yeah sure,” Ace nodded slightly to the two men. He plastered a smile on his face and escaped the bizarre environment quickly moving toward the double doors for the back. With his back to the pair, he frowned while he slipped past a young waitress wearing a tricorn. That conversation had been surreal he thought; Carter must have been assuming Ace had been to eat at the Moby Dick before and knew how the system worked. Ace didn’t, but it wouldn’t take much to figure it out, maybe he’d get some food this afternoon to learn.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t elect to pull their offer because of this.

Now, where was the second door?

Back in the front Carter dropped his plate and turned furiously toward Thatch as he said: “he doesn’t have a clue where he is or what’s happened to him!”

“Shit,” Thatch ran an aggravated hand over his face “I was hoping I was wrong when I saw him in that marine place. I thought he missed me because he’d fallen unconscious, or that he was guilty, ya know? But then he acted so distantly the other day; I thought he was mad at me- not that he doesn’t have a clue.”

Carter groaned “Thatch we have to tell Pops and… and should he be here?”

“Of course he should,” Thatch snapped “he’s our brother, he deserves to be here! Besides he was miserable at that idiotic ‘Maritime.’”

“Marines run it, of course he was” Carter scoffed rolling his eyes skyward, “but that’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. If he doesn’t remember, then you know what that means.”

“I know,” Thatch interrupted not wanting to think about what it could mean for Ace in the long run. “No it’s better we keep him around, he’ll be safer with us and away from them. Besides, maybe his memory will be jogged while he works with us.”

“Alright commander,” Carter nodded in agreement “I’ll keep doing the job, and I’ll tell the others not to tell him.”

“Thanks,”

“Yeah, yeah, let's hope it doesn’t last too long. All my idiots miss that kid; they won’t be happy with me for long.”

“You know they don’t mind you Carter; you were their first commander.”

“I was,” Carter corrected “Now, I’m just part of the crew, and I like it. Honestly, I enjoy my free time, that job is way too stressful. No offense or anything,”

“None taken, after all, I like it,”

“Yeah yeah, go before Portgas gets impatient or falls asleep, the kid looks exhausted,” Carter sighed, “and for a good reason I guess.”

Carter left while making a slight face as he said to himself “This is just bizarre, he outranks us all.”

Thatch headed for his office plastering the best attempt at a smile on his face. Hopefully Ace wouldn’t realize how bothered he was, in theory he wouldn’t if he didn’t remember anything. This Ace wouldn’t be able to tell his false smiles from his real ones, not yet.

When Thatch stepped into his office, he couldn’t resist making a noise of fondness. There asleep on one of the extra chairs was Ace with his arms on the deck pillowing his head.

Thatch chuckled at Ace's sleeping form. “You know, I use to think a person with narcolepsy wouldn’t look so tired.”

He stepped forward shaking Ace away. His palm touched Ace’s, and he recoiled quickly away from it. Ace’s skin was clammy and chilled as if he’d been dunked into ice water or chained down by the sea. Thatch shot a worried look at Ace; he had never felt his skin that cold, ever. That wasn’t normal, but then none of this was normal.

The touch startled Ace enough that he snapped up yelling out: “I’m awake!” he missed slamming his head into Thatch’s by a hairs breath and only because Thatch jerked back at the last second to save himself the bloody lip.

“You sure?” Thatch teased as he internally worried about the chill, what could be causing that? “I can hardly tell with those raccoon eyes of yours. Almost wish we had Iz- my friend, he’d be able to cover those up in a minute flat.”

“Makeup? Yeah, no thanks,”

“I figured. I’d try to convince you it’s fun to wear it and wander around completely in disguise, but I suspect you wouldn’t believe me,”

“Never!”

“Never say never Ace, I’m sure my friend could convince you,” Thatch grinned and dropped into his chair, “right so, contract then. Here we are.” Thatch pushed some paperwork over and tapped it “just read it over and ask any questions you might have.”

“Sure.” Ace reached for and started to flip through it. As he read Ace discovered he would be getting a massive boost in monthly funds thanks to this new job. To the point where he could very quickly escape his apartment and finally get his version of full meals every day- which was, of course, his priority. Ace was quite eager to sign off for the new job for that reason alone beside he could admit he rather liked Thatch, and the others appeared to be friendly and hard-working, so Ace would not be carrying the whole job alone.

He was good with what he was reading, “Sounds good, you have a pen?”

“I do,” Thatch leaned forward and dropped a pen designed to look like a blue and yellow pineapple into Ace’s hands. Ace froze staring at it; something was familiar about- why did he keep doing this, the deja-vu was killing him lately.

“You guys have a thing for pineapples here?” he asked distance as he signed his name with his sharp scrawl. Then he handed the pen and contract back, watching them both vanish into the desk drawer.

“That’s… an inside joke, I’ll tell you the meaning later. Anyway, as for this-” he tapped the contract “-I’ll get you a copy before you leave. Now, how about you stay for a meal. On the house, you’re a bit skinny.”

“Are you sure about that?” Ace gave Thatch a shark-like grin, on the house meant he could get pretty whatever he wanted, which meant he could eat his weight in food.

“I’m sure we can handle it!” Thatch challenged eyes softening.

“Don’t be so sure!” Ace bragged fully intent on taking advantage and eating his fill.

 

* * *

  
Ace slammed his hand on top of his TV in an attempt to get the image to clear; the reception refused to respond to the abuse. Clicking his tongue, he moved back slightly watching the screen fuzz out, and the news reporter speak as if they were talking through water. He was disappointed, Ace had wanted to see the man something about him was soothing, from the verbal tick to the odd hairstyle.

Ace flopped onto his couch watching as the screen danced with color and the reporter spoke.

“-under attack by-….” The screen turned into full fuzz before the sentence got out.

“Damn” Ace sighed and ran a hand through his hair. At least with his new job he’d be able to afford a new TV sooner than later, and a proper set up to get more than just infomercials and the news.

“-allies are moving to assist-…. -island lost-”

“Sounds intense,” Ace muttered to his TV “Wonder what happened?” Ace stood debating with himself; he could ask Thatch tomorrow he supposed. Surely the other man would know the details if it was that serious?

He turned away from the TV debating making dinner, though he was somewhat limited on ingredients. Next week he’d be better off, actually be able to splurge on real meat. For now, he’d have to settle for some instant ramen. Though he could certainly add some better ingredients, those eggs were… probably still good.

Behind his back, the fuzzed screen cleared and the reporter slowly followed Ace with his eyes. Until the moment Ace glanced back, and it fuzzed once more as if nothing had happened.

He ate alone while thinking about how he’d quit his old job. Maybe Ace could do it explosively? That could be fun; he could go stomping in, and yelling nonsense! Or for once he could do absolutely nothing like the other two. Ace snickered, he’d think of something good for sure. No regular quitting for him, nope!

 

* * *

  
Ace dreamed of the Moby Dick, the ship and not the restaurant. He was quietly relieved to find himself on the waves, to find the ocean and his home sailing strong despite the ships fate. The only difference from his scattered memories of his dream and what he remembered was the fact of any people. The ship was perfect down the scratches from Rankuyo’s weapon and an unpleasant blood stain near the railing. Ace had left before it had been removed, the blemish had been present in his last memory of the ship.

Ace looked away from it trying to focus on the differences between his memories and the dreams. The most obvious was the lack of people that had always crowded the deck and the noises regularly going had been silenced. Now it was just Ace, the ship and the water of his dreams.

Grimacing Ace pressed a hand to his middle, like in his memories he was shirtless allowing him to see that he carried no marks. There was no sign of the disastrous attack that had pierced right through his middle. Left behind was only a ghostly pain that had thankfully faded to an ignorable whisper, nothing like the screaming pain plaguing him the last few nights after Marco gave him his name and unlocked Ace’s memories.

Pinching the skin, just to test if it was whole, which it was, Ace dismissed the pain and looked out to sea. It didn’t occur to him that the pain from his wound and the pinch shouldn’t happen. After all the idea was a common one, you couldn’t feel real pain in dreams.

Looking along the ship Ace scrunched his nose at the feeling of wrongness about it. But he couldn’t ignore the facts as they were, Ace had seen the ship sink, he knew it didn’t exist any longer. He couldn’t possibly be present on the familiar wood. It was safe to safe this had to be a dream, if only due to the impossibility of the ship around him.

“Reincarnation?” Ace asked. Was he the only one that didn’t remember his past life while he was awake? It put Thatch’s comments while Ace was awake into context he supposed. It would be why the second division had been mentioned. Especially since Ace was sure Carter had been the name of the original commander who had died a year before Ace joined the crew. Scrubbing his hands across his face, he wondered over that. It made the most sense Ace supposed. It was why the others were around and why he didn’t remember outside his dreams. It made sense, except for one thing.

“Marco,” Ace said to himself “he’s that reporter I saw on TV. But if he’s reincarnated too why am I dreaming of him? Shared dreams?” Maybe Marco was trying to find Ace, and that was why Ace was dreaming about him. Which in theory meant seeing Marco in his dreams ought to temper off now that Ace was working at the Moby Dick, his picture was up which meant Ace might meet him in person soon. Hopefully working so close to the people he’d known before would prompt him to remember while he was awake. He was eager to do so if only to reclaim his family and join in that was now a distinct crack about Marco’s pineapple-shaped hair.

Glancing around Ace looked over the empty ship and suddenly got a bit giddy. He was dreaming of the Moby; which meant his room had to be around, which would mean his posters were around. Ace hadn’t seen them in a long time, hadn’t seen his brother in a long time. Moving quickly Ace all but skipped toward the lower decks, he couldn’t quite help but peer into every room touched with heavy nostalgia. He checked the weapons bunker, the place they stored their treasure, many of the bedrooms of his fellow commanders and crew.

He paused at Marco’s room and smiled fondly, accurate with Ace’s memory the man's room with covered in shelves and books. His bed was a virtual nest of pillows arranged meticulously for his comfort, and Ace could confirm it was ridiculously soft. Before he’d been captured and the ship destroyed Ace had often snuck the room to use the bed when Marco had gone on a mission. Marco hadn’t complained the few times he’d returned to find Ace in his bed either.

_“You keep the pillows warm.”_ was all Marco had said about it.

Ace moved on heading to his own room. He felt a distinct sense of loss as he walked on, none of this existed anymore, and if he was right then, it hadn’t for ages.

Stopping at his own door Ace discovered it was locked; furrowing his brow Ace stared at the door handle, why was it? He’d never locked it while on the Moby, ever. The crew would often wander into his room, and he’d walk into theirs, either to grab some paperwork, prank the area, or they’d be looking for Ace. He’d never felt any reason to lock the door; it wasn’t like his siblings would mess with his things, beyond a prank or two.

“What is this,” he grumbled unhappily “not a high enough level or something?”

He yanked hard on the door willing it to open for him. “Open. Open. Open.” He ordered foot on the wall as he tugged at the handle.

A hand reached past him and landed on top of his own. Ace sucked in a breath and looked sharply up to meet Marco’s half-lidded eyes; he felt his heart beat in unease. Marco looked exhausted, more than just the lidded eyes he’d already been carrying. It was as if he hadn’t slept in years, as if he’d lost all the blood volume in his body and had witnessed the death of his entire family.

Ace released the pressure he had on the door handle preparing to abandon his attempts so that he could embrace his brother. Concern welled up as Ace started to move. He wasn’t sure what he was planning, only that Ace intended to do anything he could to help Marco, his eldest brother should never look like that. However, before he could, Marco squeezed his hand twisting it and the door handle still under his palm. The lock that had been blocking Ace released, and it opened. Ace looked up uncertainly as Marco nodded into the room implying Ace should enter.

'Thanks' was on the tip of his tongue, a worried question was a step behind that. Ace nearly allowed the words to breach his lips before he remembered speaking would wake him up. With all the effort he’d gone through to get into the door, he should finish his mission. Ace found he couldn’t look away and step inside, not when Marco looked like that.

“You want to see him don’t you?” Marco asked, “go ahead; the picture should be there.”

Marco pushed Ace’s upper back with his free hand and nudged Ace a step into the room.

It was a mess as always; the bed was left unmade since Ace didn’t believe in making it - why bother, he was going to sleep in it again. There was a shelf of books he’d found interesting over the years; it also held the ones that had been gifted to him - mostly storybooks and a few about chemical interactions to assist in his fire attacks. The shelves also contained a few items he hadn’t been able to resist picking up, like an odd looking claw from a crocodile he’d hunted and a stone with blue and yellow swirls.

On the walls lay his wanted poster collection, all across the walls was every bounty picture he’d been able to get a hold of. The faces of his adoptive family were scattered before him. While front and center on the desk lay the one he was most proud to own.

Luffy’s.

It held Luffy’s ear to ear smile, his scar, and his treasured straw hat. Ace placed his hand over his heart as it jerked painfully. His last memory of Luffy was not that smiling face. No, it had been his brother crying and terrified as Ace bled out in his arms. It had been Luffy’s pleading voice begging for a doctor to fix the impossible, it had been Luffy demanding Ace not die because he’d promised not to. It had been Luffy’s scream of horror as Ace went limp and fell into darkness.

The next words out of his mouth were not the ones Ace had wanted to say. He’d honestly been intending to asking if Marco was okay, to tell him he worked at the Moby Dick, or to ask what was happening. He said none of that as he gazed at his kid brother, so very hopeful that Marco knew what Ace did not, because Ace had died.

“He survived right?” Ace asked unable to look away from the poster.

Marco behind him looked to Ace’s back then he softly said: “…He survived, we made sure of it.”

Ace turned and smiled breathlessly in relief; then he faded away vanishing before Marco’s exhausted eyes.

Marco forced a breath through his teeth as Ace vanished. A single word and a ticking clock were what they were working; it was impossible to manage. If he told Ace everything, it would only result in his pain and death. But if he said nothing then-

Swearing Marco rubbed his hands over his face. As he did, he felt a cold metal brush against his skin, gritting his teeth Marco looked at the chilled stone wrapped around his wrist. A chain draining him and yet desperately needed.

Marco dug his nails into his palms as he looked past where Ace had been standing to the smiling face of Monkey D. Luffy. Regret shot through him, then burning determination.

“I can’t keep this up” he breathed out and shook himself “But I can’t give up either.”

_‘Please realize soon Ace. Please’_

 

* * *

 

  
The phone woke Ace, with a sleepy grumble Ace swung a hand out and snatched it up. Pressing the phone to his ear Ace mumbled out a distracted “yeah?”

_“Ace?”_

His eyes flew wide, and Ace swung violently to the side to hang up before another word was spoken. He was not talking to his father today or any day; it was not going to happen.


End file.
